The bar was packed and surprisingly Daisy didn't need to pull out her ID to get a drink. To Timothée, she looked like any other nineteen year old would look like, but apparently to the bartender, she looked more like a snack and he didn't mind if she was sixteen or twenty-one or thirty five, he was still going to pour her a drink if his life depended on it.
Timothée wanted to tell the bartender to check her ID, and he also wanted to smack him for looking at her like she was a piece of meat rather than a human being but he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he watched her down a few shots like it was nothing. Like it was merely a cup of water.
'So.. that's it? You're an alcoholic now?' Timothée says bravely. He had been afraid of her and how she would react to things all night but watching her down that shot sparked something in him. It made him protective over her and he didn't care if he had to hurt her feelings, she needed to stop this.
'I'm not an alcoholic.' She says ever so surely.
Timothée scoffs. 'Then what do you call drinking obsessively, like it's the only thing you ever do.' He watched her, his eyes solid and he doesn't look away. He knows she isn't really an alcoholic but she was on the verge of being one and soon enough, if she kept on doing what she was doing there would be no going back.
'You don't know what I do. You weren't around for the past year to know anything about me or about my obsessive drinking problem.' She takes another shot, and looks at Timothée rudely. She wanted to hurt him, more than anything. She wanted him to know that a part of this drinking problem she was having was his doing.
'I know that I wasn't there. But I've seen the articles and the photos and I saw you at the club.' He recalls the night at the club, when the pervert held her in places she shouldn't be held. It made him feel sick, but he was also shocked that night because she was intoxicated. And from what he knew, Daisy never drank. Until now. Now she never stopped drinking.
'You were at that club too. But somehow I'm the bad guy and you're the innocent one.' She doesn't take another shot, she just looks at the alcohol in front of her and studies it, wondering if she should let it into her system or not.
'I wasn't drinking. I was picking up my drunk best friend.' Timothée explains to her because she had it all wrong. After seeing Harvey in the state he was in, Timothée barely touched alcohol unless there was a special occasion of course. Then he would make an exception.
'Well... if your friend was drunk too then that proves I'm not the only person in the world who likes to get drunk sometimes.' Daisy hiccups slightly, it was the most adorable thing Timothée had ever seen but he didn't let it get to him. He didn't let his guard down. She needed to know what she was doing was going to hurt her in the end. So he stayed harsh and tried his best not to sound too soft or too weak as he spoke to her.
'You don't get drunk sometimes, you do it all the time now. And you saw what it did to Harvey-'
Daisy cuts him off, her voice painful, and Timothée could have sworn he saw something in her eyes, something terrifying. 'Don't. Don't say his name.' she says shaking her head vigorously.
'Why not?' Timothée asks, his eyebrows raised, his face close enough to hers that he could smell the alcohol coming from her breath and it sickened him, because this wasn't her. This wasn't the Daisy he knew. 'I have as much of a right to say Harvey's name as you do. I might not be his family, but I saw him that night too. And it taught me something.'
Daisy shakes her head, backing away from him. She looks away and she shakes her head at him again and again in anger. 'Shut up Timothée.' she spits furiously.
Timothée becomes aggravated. 'No. I won't shut up. Because you need to understand that if you continue on this way, you won't be able to recover.'
She turns around again so she can face him and looks him dead in the eyes. She feels anger and betrayal and sadness and sorrow and fury all at once but somehow she sounds completely calm as she utters her next words. 'I don't want to recover.'
Timothée is now the one backing away from her. 'Do you hear yourself?' he says filled with a shock and anger.
She doesn't let him continue. 'I don't care about anything anymore. If I stop drinking and if I try to be happy again something else is going to break me and I'll be right back here. So what's the point?'
Timothée reaches for her hand because he felt like he needed to touch her as he spoke. Somehow Daisy doesn't recoil back, or resonate him. Instead she lets him hold her hand and she looks deeper into his emerald green eyes. 'You don't know that Daisy. There's always a point.' he whispers and from the look in his eyes she knows he means it. But it doesn't matter because the thoughts begin to flood in her mind and she can't push them away for much longer.
'No, there really isn't a point. My dad is going to die soon and I know that. Just like how I knew Harvey was going to die. And when that happens I won't have anything to live for.' it was true, she had known about Harvey's death all along, she felt it in her gut once Harvey started drinking and doing frugs and his death ended up happening not long afterwards. However, Timothée hoped that this time her gut feeling would be wrong. Because if she lost her father she'll have lost everything.
He tries to get to her, by lowering his voice so it was calmer and more soothing. And by looking deep into her brown caramel eyes. 'I'm sorry... about your dad. I have faith that he'll be strong enough to survive it.' Daisy doesn't look away from him, it was as if she wanted to believe what he was saying too. 'But if you don't stop this addiction of yours, the next thing you are going to be losing is yourself.'
Daisy scoffs, finally looking away from him. The spark in her eye was now long gone. 'So what?' She says, laughing slightly. As if her life and her well being didn't matter.
'SO WHAT?' Timothée says now growing less calm and more angry again. 'Daisy who are you anymore?'
Daisy runs her hands frustratedly through her hair as she answers. 'I don't care if I lose myself, I don't care if it ends up killing me. I have nothing left to live for.' She says these words, as if she is so sure of them. So positive that there is nothing left for her in this great big world.
And it broke Timothée. Because this wouldn't have ever happened if he had just stayed. If he hadn't left her poor soul that one night when she begged for him not to leave. 'Is your dad nothing, is your mom nothing, and Pierre, and Kaden and Skylar and me? Am I nothing to you?' Timothée asks bringing himself out of his guilty thoughts and trying to convince her with his words. He was trying to make her feel guilty, for wanting to harm herself and leave them all behind and it seemed like it was working slightly because she groaned at him in frustration.
'That has nothing to do with this!' She says.
'It has everything to do with this!' Timothée replies, his voice louder and clearer. 'If you go on like this we are going to be mourning you and going to your funeral and crying over you the same way we did Harvey. Is that really what you want?' Timothée asks her, his eyebrows raised trying to hold back his tears.
'No.' Daisy says in a low voice.
'Then stop doing it.' Timothée says, as if it were that simple.
'I can't' She says her eyes focused on her shoes and the pretty floor beneath her. She couldn't bear to face him as she admitted it.
'Yes. You can.' he tells her, having faith in her because he knew she was strong enough to get through this.
'I can't stop. It's all I know how to do.' Daisy admits, her eyes glazed with tears. She was still facing the ground and she was too ashamed of herself to look him in the eye.
'So you admit it? You are addicted to it.' Timothée says. His intention wasn't to hurt her, or challenge her. It was to make her admit to it out loud, so that it would resonate in her mind that she in fact needed help. She needed to somehow stop what she was doing to herself.
'Yes. I do admit it. Drinking makes me feel, I don't know, distracted. When I'm drunk I'm numb and when I'm numb, I don't have to feel so sad all the time.' It was so hard to admit, so fucking hard to say it out loud but Daisy did it anyways. She said how she really felt and she awaited Timothée's response.
His hand finds her chin and he is tilting her face upwards so they can meet each other's eyes again. He doesn't want her to hide from him, not now. Things were going to change from now on. He wasn't going to keep his distance from her anymore. 'You don't have to get drunk to stop feeling sad Daisy.' Timothée tells her trying to send her a warm smile. To let her know he was here for her.
But his attempt was not successful. 'But I do need the alcohol. I've lost every source of happiness I ever had. I have nothing left but the alcohol. It helps, it really does help Timothée.' She is so intoxicated, so addicted to this liquid that it's messing with her head. And Timothée doesn't know how to get through to her this way. She needed to be sober to hear his words.
'No Daisy you just think it does. But the alcoholic doesn't really help. You don't need it or people to be happy. You only need yourself Daisy.'
She interrupts him and she is shaking her head frantically. 'That's bullshit and you know it.'
Timothée rolls his eyes at her. Expecting her to ignore his words. 'No. It's not bullshit. I mean it. You are the only person you can really depend on. You can depend on others for small things but the only person that can really make you happy is yourself. You can be your own source of happiness.' His words sounded so cheesy and pointless to Daisy, given the fact that she was hammered and needed to pass out on a bed.
Tonight was way too much of an adventure. 'I'm way too drunk to be hearing this.' She says letting out another hiccup and making Timothée smile in return. She forgot how it felt like to watch him smile.
'Fine. Then I'll wait till you're sober and I'll tell it to you again.' He says and then he helps her out of the bar and takes her home.